Yours (Valentine's Day)
by lafantomette
Summary: Donna is out on a date, what could possibly go wrong? #Darvey


_A/N: Okay, okay. This has been a hard week for us. We can't say that episode 513 was the Valentine's Day gift we, Darvey fans, wanted. But as much as I whined about that goddamn episode I try to keep positive. I think it was easier for Harvey to pour his heart out to Scottie because she doesn't have the possibility to "ruined him". The only one who holds his heart and happiness is Donna. When Scottie left him, life went on. When Donna left, his whole world fell apart. So of course, it is making it harder for him to risk anything when it comes to Donna..._

 _This fic is dedicated to my sweet Army, they know who they are. I want to thank them for their constant support even tho I've been sick and a total mess. They are a great group of people that I love dearly and I feel lucky to be a part of this little family._

 _I found inspiration for this fic in the beautiful song called "Yours" by Ella Henderson. Please, listen to it: your heart will melt._

 _Thanks for reading and please leave a little comments, it will make me really happy._

 _xoxo Fantomette_

* * *

She's sure she made the right decision by breaking up with Mitchell.

He was sweet and showered her with constant attention but he just didn't 'get her' and often got offended when she replied with witty remarks. The sex was good, not great or mind-blowing, just enough to have fun and not enough that she would miss it after a breakup.

A few months of this was nice and she has to admit it boosted her ego after what happened with Harvey, but she couldn't fool herself any longer.

After a few months, she still didn't see herself having a future with Mitchell.

Being friends with Harvey again, working for him, was nice and comforting. She had put behind them the ambiguities and the lost hopes, being content he could be there for her 'as a friend'.

She knows she'll find love eventually and she joined a few online dating services, hoping to find Mr. Right.

Mr. Right could possibly be James McCarthy.

It's February 13th, the day before Valentine's Day, and she wouldn't have agreed to a date on this day, among all the other couples in love in this restaurant, if he wouldn't have all the qualities she was looking for.

She is already on her second glass of wine and he still has great conversation. He also sure did not disappoint in the look department: tall and handsome, blonde with blue eyes, a warm complexion and a strong jawline. She's wearing a burgundy, tight fitted dress, showing just enough cleavage to grab his attention. She decided to wear her hair into a classic ponytail as she knows how it accentuates her long neck driving men mad imagining themselves kissing her porcelain skin.

He's telling her a story that happened at the office –he works in finance- about that time this woman named Bridget spilled coffee over his shirt. He's funny, charming, and she can't help wonder why he's still available. His eyes are laughing and she can't help but laugh too, the wine is helping. Between telling stories he orders dessert, saying they will share, making her heart flutters. He adds more wine and she drinks, telling him more about herself because he asked. Dessert arrives: it looks delicious even if she didn't quite catch what the name was. It has chocolate, fruits and whipped cream. He licks the spoon and she can't help but think she would gladly let him lick whipped cream off her body. For a fraction of second she thinks about Harvey, it's just that in her mind, because of that night they had together years ago, Harvey Specter rhymes with whipped cream. It's normal, she thinks, and she's more than willing to replace this memory with someone else if the opportunity arise. The opportunity might even been sitting in front of her all evening. She feels warm when his hand catches her fingers on the table. She's trying to make conversation but she has sex on her mind as his thumb draws small circles in her palm. He talks enough for two, telling her a story about that time a friend of his invited him over along with some friends and family, and that he ruined dessert by dropping the whole coconut whipped cream pie on the floor. She gasps and he rolls his eyes, saying how glad he was that Bridget saved the day again. His phone rings on the table, he looks at it and furrows his eyebrows, his hand leaving hers.

"Sorry, I really have to take this one," he apologizes, a worried look on his face.

She drinks some more wine, still wondering if she's dreaming: that date is perfect. She scrutinizes him, there must be something wrong with this man.

He is talking into the phone and she hears those words, she swallows them in and she feels like acid is burning down her throat:

"Of course Bridget, I would do anything for you."

That perfect man sitting in front of her is Harvey. This Bridget is his Donna.

She's the other woman.

She's the one he will have sex with, while being in an unhealthy, co-dependent, non-romantic relationship with this Bridget.

She needs more wine.

He puts his phone back on the table and grabs her hand again, apologizing thoroughly. He makes a charming remark but somehow now it sounds fake. She pulls her hand from his grasps and he raises his eyebrows.

"I think there's somewhere else you need to be," she says matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

She plays with her napkin. It's Valentine's Day and her perfect date is ruined. She looks at him and lets out the heavy breath she's been holding.

"Bridget needs you."

"Not until tomorrow," he replies. "Hey, we were having a great time." He forces a smile but years of analyzing people tells her he's bothered. That call destabilized him.

She asks the server to bring them the check, making a small gesture in her direction. She pours more wine into her glass, not caring one bit if she ends up drunk. She'll spend her evening alone at home anyway, watching Pretty Woman.

James pays while Donna downs her drink. She gets up and realizes she definitely drank too much. Her head is spinning and she grabs James' arm when he offers it to her. They grab their coats at the checkroom and go outside, the fresh air stinging her cheeks. They stand on the sidewalk and his arms are around her. She's suddenly warm, he smells nice. She could have sex with him just for comfort, she knows it wouldn't last. It never lasts between Harvey and all these women…

"Want me to walk you home?" His voice is as warm as his body. She could melt into him. She nods and they start walking. He's talking again, explaining this thing he has to help Bridget with tomorrow. They are working together on something and it seems of the highest importance. Her mind is a blur, alcohol running through her veins, she can't understand a thing.

His phone rings again and he yanks it out of his pocket while they keep walking. She is examining him again while he's talking on the phone: it seems Bridget has found an arrangement to make some client's business more lucrative. He seems happy. Donna is focused on him, realizing that's probably what being on a date with Harvey Specter looks like. With a sunken feeling, she pities all these women Harvey brought back to his place in the last thirteen years. Harvey was the one who insisted she should always call him as soon as she finds something regarding a case, calling him was just the thing she had to do. It was part of the deal. She never thought about what it may implies for his "date".

"I can stop by and we can take a look at it," she hears James say. His tone is different, hints of hopefulness wrapped around his words. _That Bridget will always be his number one_ , thinks Donna closing her eyes for a brief moment.

It happened really fast.

Her foot must have caught somewhere, the ground is uneven and she is drunk, maybe it is a hole in the sidewalk? She was too focused on James conversation and her mind had drifted to Harvey. The loud cracking sound resonated inside her body seconds before the sharp pain comes pulsing through her ankle. She tries putting her foot again on the ground but the pain is too intense. She falls forward, trying to grab James arm but the man is holding his phone, arm close to his side. Her body hit the cold ground, leaving her hurt and confused.

James tries to help her up, but she cries when she tries to move her leg. He helps her sit and then he gestures to stop a yellow taxi on the street. He passes an arm around her shoulder and lifts her, telling her to put all her weight on him. Every step is torture until she sits in the taxi, James next to her telling the driver to go to the nearest Emergency Room.

She's nauseous, not sure if it's from the drive, the pain, or the alcohol. They reach the hospital quickly enough and James helps her get out. Tears are streaming down her face.

"A wheelchair would have been a good idea," she says through gritted teeth while taken in how far the doors to the ER are from where they are standing. He doesn't answer and keep on helping her. When the E.R.'s doors slide opens, she's blinded by the lights. She let herself slump down in the first chair she sees, crying. This is definitely the worse Valentine's Day of her entire life.

She can feel her heart banging in her ankle. _This can't be normal_ , she thinks. Her body grows increasingly weak, cold sweats enveloping her.

"I'm going to call you someone," she hears James says. She opens her eyes, he has her phone in his hands.

"Frequent contacts…you have Harvey Specter under speed dial," he continues his eyes scotched on the phone. "Good?"

She nods, too weak to talk. She closes her eyes, his voice is distant. She hears him explain she fell and hurt herself.

"The guy said he'll be here in ten minutes, I think I might even heard him starting to run towards the hospital before he hung up." James chuckles. "Who is he?"

She doesn't even opens her eyes. "He's my James. I'm his Bridget."

He groans and sits next to her on the plastic chair. "I'm sorry for this shitty date… When she calls I have to answer. That's how we work. She's important to me. That doesn't mean I don't want to…"

She sighs. "Stop please. Just…leave. Go to her. Talk to her. Ask yourself why she's so important to you. I don't think you're seeing the whole portrait."

"I'm confused," he admits pushing a hand through his hair. "I don't want to ruin everything…so I do nothing. I'm thinking about seeing a therapist, maybe."

Donna looks at him through half-opened eyelids. "You should. But tell her, please."

"You're great, Donna," he says giving her a small smile. "Thanks for the nice evening, I'm sorry it didn't worked out." She nods and closes her eyes again, inhaling deeply, trying to control the pain radiating through her body. "I think it's your guy," she hears James say. She opens her eyes and James gets up to leave. She hears the sound of his feet hitting rapidly on the linoleum before she sees him. He stands in front of her, panting, looking at her with concerned. He's wearing jeans and running shoes, a black winter coat. His usually perfectly coiffed hair going in every direction. She realizes he can't talk because he's out of breath from the running.

"I fell. I think I broke my ankle, or leg," she says her voice weaker than she wants it to be.

He nods and takes her handbag, fetching her wallet out and makes his way to the front desk. She closes her eyes, feeling safe, slowly drifting in a semi-conscious state.

"They're gonna see call you soon." His voice is tender, he's using this tone he only uses with her. "They'll bring a wheelchair you won't have to walk. I'm there now. Everything will be okay." His hand gently pulls her towards him and she rests her head on his lap. She's pretty sure it's his fingers she feels caressing her scalp, threading through her hair, but she's too weak to register and she drifts away once again.

* * *

She opens her eyes and realizes she's in his bed, his familiar scent engulfing her. She tries to remember everything but she can't. She makes an extra effort to recapitulate what happened, having troubles discerning dreams from reality.

She remembers waking up groggy in a hospital bed but not feeling the pain anymore. She heard Harvey mentioning the word drugs and laughing.

He also mentioned taking her back to his condo, something about not finding her keys, and she agreed because after all, this was all a dream. If she was dreaming about Harvey caring for her injured self, might as well turned this into a crazy sex dream. She laughed when she realized she had said all this aloud and Harvey looked embarrassed. She added he must have dreamed about her naked in his bed quite a few times and his face got even redder and he mumbled something she couldn't quite grasped. She was in and out of a deep-sleep and a nice nurse told Harvey it was okay to take his wife home. She remembers Ray helping Harvey get her to his condo and how familiar the sheets in his bed smelled, how comfortable his bed was and how much she wanted him to stay.

Her eyes snapped open and she realizes he's still sleeping, holding her.

His hand is around her waist, in fact, she can feel his fingers moving lightly, pushing under her shirt. Warmth invades her, she feels butterflies in her stomach…and a certain something telling her good morning, hard against her hips, through her pants.

"Harvey," she mumbles, her voice hoarse. "Wake up."

The only reaction it provokes is him pushing his hand further under her shirt. His palm his hot on her stomach and there's nothing she wants more than morning sex but it would be wrong without them talking first.

She hits him lightly with her elbow in his rib cage. "Harvey! Wake up!" Her voice is louder now.

He groans and removes his hand from under her shirt. He opens his eyes and shifts his body, probably realizing his morning wood pressing against her body.

"You begged me to stay," he offers groggily as an apology. "You cried holding my hand, pulling me into bed with you and begged me to stay." He rubs his fist on his closed eyes. She turns her body to face him and realizes how heavy her injured leg is. Her ankle is in a cast, of course.

"I can't remember anything except for a few things…" she sighs.

He suddenly has a goofy smile painted on his face. "Really? That's too bad: the sex was awesome! You kept asking for more…" She interrupts him by slapping his chest.

She thought it was a dream but it seems it wasn't: she really did beg him to stay. She even grabbed his hand and pulled him into bed. Oh God…that was humiliating. She wishes she could hide under the cover, but it wasn't an option because then, she would see his erection. Her cheeks were tingling, turning red.

"Last night you told me you were my Bridget…" he asks after a pause. "Donna, what the hell does it mean? You kept insisting."

This was worse than she thought. She probably blabbered incoherently about other stuff too.

"You told me you love me and that you want everything." Harvey adds giving her a warm smile. In fact, the smile is reaching his eyes, making him even more handsome and she feels weak. Suddenly she's in alert, planning an escape.

"I was drunk, and drugged, and tired Harvey." Trying to keep her composure she looks him straight in the eyes. "Harvey I don't.." He stops her by gripping her wrist, fingers circling around her pulse.

"Donna, I think I'm ready for love. Of course if you…" He says in one breath before his voice trails off.

There's no air left in her lungs. She's speechless. Maybe she is still all drugged up and this is just a vivid dream. He's obviously holding his breath, waiting for her to reply.

But she can't.

He nervously licks his lips, not letting his gaze leave hers.

"I thought we had everything," she finally says referring to the day she confronted him about his admission on her couch, followed by him leaving. Her heart is still bruised from that whole debacle.

"I wanna be you everything and more." His voice is broken and quiet. She turns her head on the pillow, can't bear looking at him any longer, fully aware now that he always was her rock, that she was the one who put him in that role because she needed someone strong to protect her. A vulnerable Harvey is shaking the whole foundation of their relationship. His hand is still around her wrist, burning her skin in such a way she feels like his touch lit up a fire inside her loins. She's transported back to the day they met, when they shook hands and that brief touch lighted up the same fire inside her that's burning right this moment.

"Scottie." She hears herself say. She isn't sure if it's a statement or a question, somehow she just needs to say it.

"I was afraid of the words…" He lifts himself on an elbow, his hand leaving her wrist. She meets his gaze and sees the sincerity in his eyes. "You know I care for her and I do love her but not in the way I love you. I treated her badly. I guess I felt like I owed her an explanation and it was easier to let it out with her because when she breaks my heart, it doesn't hurt like…" He swallows and painfully continues. "It doesn't hurt like when you left Donna."

She's asking him a question, silently with her eyes. Her leg is hurting and her heart is ready to burst. Harvey Specter is finally opening up. Everything seems surreal

"Those words have more meaning when I say them to you." He blinks and she can see tears pooling his dark eyes. "Because you're different."

This time she's the one reaching for him, placing her hand on his torso. For a moment, they don't move, just facing each other and she realizes they are breathing in sync. She can't go back. She tried every day since they've met and never could anyway.

"I'm yours," she says at last.

His mouth is on hers before she can adds anything else. His hand is caressing her jaw and she feels the warmth of his skin against hers. She can't move because of that stupid cast. She pulls him even closer, wrapping her arms around him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says breathily, eyeing her up and down. "We can wait."

There is no way in hell she's going to wait. She was able to put her desire on the back burners for more than twelve years but now that she has tasted his lips and felt his skin against hers, his desire teasing her hard and warm through his boxers, against her thigh, she can't wait any longer. It feels right. It feels like the only thing that was missing from her life was this. She knows she'll have to deal with his insecurities afterwards but she always was the one standing next to him anyway so might as well do this as a team, like they always did, but with the added bonus of great sex. She reaches inside his boxer and he rolls his eyes before closing them as she closed her hand around his erection, his skin so warm and soft in her palm.

His breaths are deep and heavy, rhythmed by the movements of her hand on his length. His lips brushes against the corner of her lips as he's looking at her with lustful eyes.

"I'll take that as a 'go'," he whispers. She pushes his boxers down and he helps her shimmy out of her pants which is easy since she is wearing pyjama pants that belongs to him. He sits on the bed, carefully pulling the pants over her cast. He's being very focused and serious at that task and she sees how that little line digs on the corner of his mouth, like all the other times she watched him worked at the office. A tell that he's taking something very seriously.

It hits her that she's been loving him all these years, she just didn't allow herself to even acknowledge that fact. He slowly lowers himself on top of her, allowing her to feel all his skin against hers. She fights back tears, she is so in love with him. His thumb grazes her cheek, his other hand supporting his weight. He kisses her again, so softly.

"This time, it will be less kinky than the other time," Harvey murmurs smiling wryly. She trails her finger down his back and presses her hands on his hips, not once breaking eye contact as he slowly eased into her, filling her inch by inch. His lips brushes against hers as she moans his name. This is so different from the other time: everything is slow as he thrusts deeper into her, like they've been waiting for so long they need to make the moment last. Her body is screaming to go faster but Harvey's isn't changing his pace, only pounding inside her deeper, her nails digging in his hips, trying to pull him even more tightly. She aches for him, she feels it coming, totally overwhelming her. His lips crashes on hers, claiming her as he let himself go buried deep inside her. She screams against his lips, her whole body grasping him and then letting him go. He rolls on his side, panting. She puts the back of her hand on her eyes, feeling like she could start crying at any moment, overcome with emotions.

"Wow…" she says between breaths.

"Yes…it was…" he just says, his voice trailing off.

They stay in silence for a moment. She is waiting for her heartbeat to come back to a normal rate and she's pretty sure he's waiting for the same thing, hearing how he's trying to settle his breaths. He closes his hand around her hand lovingly reminding her this is it. They finally are together.

She opens her eyes and she sees him looking at her lovingly, a cocky smile on his smile. They lock gaze and he asks her:

"So, Donna Paulsen…would you be my Valentine?"


End file.
